My eyes narrowed beneath the mask. More reinforcements?! There are more?! This was already a losing battle no need to bring in even more. Are you trying to slay a dragon? Even if you were, you wouldn't need this many people.

Could I pretend to be dead? Yes, great idea, that might work. I could let them stab me, then fake my death. What a brilliant plan! But what if they took my body? Would they bother to bury me? Or would they burn it?

"By the way, when your men die, what do you do with their bodies?"

He didn't answer me. He only raised his hand, signaling his soldiers. They all charged at me at once.

***

All the men lunged at Jevan at once. He raised his hand and muttered, "First rule: any weapon that hasn't tasted blood in the last five minutes is forbidden."

As soon as he spoke, transparent chains burst from his leather gloves and wrapped around his enemies' weapons. Under the Law's power every attempt to stab or block him failed.

Seeing their confusion, Jevan pounced. One slash of his sword sent a head flying; another cut off an arm. With every strike his blood-soaked blade flashed under the moonlight.

With each body hitting the ground a rush swelled inside him. The sorrowful mask was feeding his urge to kill, and the more he killed the stronger he became if only for a while.

Fear crept into the men's eyes. They'd been afraid before, but the sight before them multiplied it tenfold. The stories of "the Masked Man" were not unknown to them. For years tales had spread about the man who stormed the Guardians' headquarters, who killed the Bloody Fang's leader back when it was still called the Bloody Dagger. Rumors had piled up until many thought them exaggerations. But now, standing in front of him, they knew in their bones those stories weren't empty talk.

Each of them would rather never have been called to this job, but when orders come you can't refuse. In the Claw gang, disobedience doesn't just mean your own death it means the death of your family. And if you have no family they'll kill someone close to you as punishment. That's why they stood and fought even as each one longed to run.

Jevan kept cutting them down, but his advance was slower than he wanted. Many bodies had fallen, yet the rest were regrouping and moving in formation.

He backed off when he found himself surrounded by four men in full black armor from head to toe, unlike the others who wore only partial gear.

Inside Jevan's head voices roared: "Kill… rip them apart… leave no one alive." He pressed his temples hard, shaking his head as if to drive off an insect. The Law's power alone crushed his mind; added to it was the Madness Authority flowing from the sorrowful mask.

The pain wasn't physical so much as mental, which made it worse. He wanted out. He wanted to carve a path and run.

He dropped the Law's effect to ease the pressure on his mind. Then he charged straight at them. The moment they realized they could use their weapons again they launched a suicidal attack.

Swords and spears pierced his body. Their chests filled with a fleeting joy then shock replaced it. Jevan didn't stop. He didn't even groan, just kept cutting them down one after another. Blood poured from him, yet he moved like a merciless killing machine.

He leapt at one of the armored men, driving his sword into his chest until it punched through the iron plate. He shoved him to the ground, ripped off his helmet and severed his head. The others attacked with the same ferocity, stabbing him again and again, but he didn't retreat. He answered by slicing their necks as if he were slaughtering sheep.

Seeing this, the remaining fighters felt terror flood their hearts. They no longer saw a man but a monster. Some tried to run, but in a blink their throats were cut too.

In the middle of the street, now a red sea of blood, Jevan stood alone. Blades and spears stuck from every part of his body, some still lodged in his flesh. Blood dripped onto the pavement, yet he stood tall.

From a distance the gray-black-haired man who had been watching approached. Unhurried, he came up to Jevan, clapping his hands with that same smile on his face.

"Excellent work."

Jevan turned his head toward him, his mask hiding every expression.

His voice came out hollow:

"Tell me, what's the point of sending all this trash at me? A welcome party?"

The man stroked his chin.

"My point? Didn't I make it clear? I was trying to slow you down until reinforcements arrived."

Jevan lifted his bloodied sword and pointed it at the man's neck. He murmured, "Second rule: every word you speak will be the truth. No lies."

Then he said sharply:

"There were no reinforcements coming, were there?"

The man chuckled lightly, pushing the sword's edge aside with a finger.

"You caught me. I was only testing you."

Jevan's eyes narrowed behind the mask.

"Testing me?"

"Yes. I wanted to be sure you were really the Masked Man and not just another fraud."

"And are you convinced now? Or should I cut off your head to be sure?"

"Completely convinced."

"Was it worth sacrificing all those wretches?"

"I was ready to sacrifice more."

Jevan slid his sword back to his side, turned and walked away. The man didn't move to follow. He stood watching until Jevan vanished from sight. Then he too disappeared from the place.

Jevan, who was hiding behind a nearby wall, watched him until he was completely gone. Only then did he exhale deeply.

"He's gone at last…"

He lifted a hand to touch one of the deep wounds in his body. If that man had decided to attack him just now he would have fallen instantly, even if he hadn't died. The mask had kept him on his feet, but in return it had warped his healing ability.

As usual Jevan had many questions. But this time he didn't plan to ignore them. He wanted some answers and luckily, this time he knew where he might find a few.

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